33. Ava
33
Ava
T he motel room stank of stale coffee and grease—the fast food wrappers piling up on the dresser like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. I sat cross-legged on the bed, my laptop nestled between my knees as I munched on a bag of skittles and scrolled through yet another cluster of encrypted files. My eyes burned, but I couldn’t stop.
Somewhere in this mess was the key.
“Would you pass me the pizza box?” Nate flipped through a paper as he wiped his other hand on the fresh towels lining the dingy bed.
I grabbed the box and slid it toward him—my fingers hovering over the keyboard, searching for the next lead. “Find anything interesting?” He grabbed another slice, then leaned back against the headboard, a groan leaving his lips.
“There are so many layers of bullshit in here it blends together." I exhaled and rubbed my hands over my face and then through my hair, pushing it out of the way. "If there's a smoking gun, it's so buried that it might as well not even exist."
"Well, we have to keep looking." He dropped the pizza into the box half-eaten and reached for the duffel bag on the ground beside the bed. "We can't let them win."
"We won't." I gripped the back of my hair and gave it a little tug.
Nate's jaw twitched as he leaned forward.
"Here. Stop." I jumped up from the bed and snatched the bag out of his hands. "You're bleeding through your bandage again. Let me help you."
Perspiration pebbled on his brow, his pallor as white as a ghost. "It's fine."
My eyes narrowed as I rummaged inside and grabbed the gauze. "Fine doesn't look like death warmed over." I flicked my fingers, gesturing for him to lift his shirt. "Let me see."
“It’s nothing.”
"Right." I snagged his shirt, his breathing heavy as though it'd taken him a day's worth of energy to fight me. "Lay back." Giving him a slight tilt of the head, he complied and leaned back with a grunt. The hours-long bandage bloomed with blood, reaching the edges I tore away from his skin. A ragged, weeping hole clamped together, the edges red and inflamed.
My stomach twisted.
“Jesus, Nate. This is infected.”
He swiped at my hand and avoided my gaze. “I’ll handle it."
“No, you won’t.” I grabbed the antiseptic before he could. “Hold still unless you want to lose some fingers.”
Nate puffed out a defeated breath of air, his eyes closing. "I'm supposed to be the one taking care of you, you know."
"Yeah, well. Sometimes, the roles can get reversed a little." I poured the antiseptic over the gauze and dabbed it on his wound, his face screwing up into a grimace. "Sorry. I wish I would have taken some first-aid courses or something."
He laughed through gritted teeth, his hand coming over mine. "Because you anticipated cleaning wounds at some point in your journalism career?"
Silence flowed over us as his warmth seeped into my flesh, his proximity causing my pulse to quicken.
"I never did thank you for warning me that day."
Sucking in my inner cheek, I shook away whatever fire spread over me. "It's nothing."
If it weren't for him having cameras in my apartment, I would've never known either.
God...
"It's not nothing."
“You can’t keep ignoring this stuff.” I cleared my throat as I tore my hand from his and resumed dabbing his wound. “You’re not invincible.”
He leaned his head back. “I know.”
I glanced up, our eyes locking with something raw in his expression. Chills shot up my spine, my stomach swirling with heat steady and low. Grabbing the fresh gauze, I tore my gaze from his, laid it over his wound, and taped the edges. “Remember, if you go down, I’m screwed.” I stepped back and crossed my arms, putting the much-needed distance between us.
A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Nice to know you care.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” I rolled my eyes, rounded the bed, and sat in front of my laptop. The screen blinked to life, and I dove back into the files.
Nate shifted, grabbing his slice of pizza, then dove back into his files, his hand brushing against my knee as he flipped the page.
My gaze darted to his hand perched beside me, then back to the screen when a soft finger slid across my bent knee, then back down again, my stomach flipping, my eyes skimming over file names, then revisiting the ones I'd read.
Ease flowed over my nerves as his finger repeated the path, over and over, as I read the same three files' names.
"Nate?"
" Hmm?"
"How much do you want to find answers?" I swallowed the tightness in my throat.
"More than anything."
I raised a brow as I glanced down at his caressing knuckle, then at him. "Then stop touching me."
A lopsided smirk formed over his pillowy lips, his five o'clock shadow turning into a healthy beard with the days on the run. "Does it bother you?"
"I think you know the answer to that." My knee shifted away, and I focused on my computer screen as he let loose a low, rumbling laughter, cut short by a groan.
"Karma's a bitch." I gave him the side eye, a smirk of my own forming.